Page 1 of Ravaged Hearts

1

HOPE

Puerto Escondido

Ichewed on a fingernail and stared out the window of Vaughn’s airplane as we descended into Puerto Escondido.

I’d been to the resort town once before, when I was six, only a few months before my mother and brother were killed in the car bombing intended for my father. My recollections of our last family vacation were vague, although a few core memories had stuck with me. I remembered the three of us swimming in the clear-blue waters of Playa Carrizalillo and building sandcastles while my father attended to business. When he’d returned to our beachfront villa that evening, the cuff of his white shirt had been stained crimson. Red wine, he’d told us, although he’d cut our vacation short and flown us all home that night.

Whenever I’d asked Mamá what Papá’s job was, her answers were vague. Businessman. Importer. Even at a young age, I’d begun to suspect Carlos did terrible things to pay for our family’s beautiful home, chauffeur-driven cars, and privatejet. It wouldn’t be until years later that I’d understand the full extent of his depravity and know the name of his organization.

The Pacific Coast Cartel.

Vaughn reached across the cockpit and took hold of my hand, releasing my clenched fist by threading his long, tattooed fingers through mine. “Are you okay?”

It surprised me how freely he touched me now that we were far more familiar with each other’s bodies. Only hours ago, those hands had roamed every inch of my skin, and I couldn’t wait for the opportunity for him to do it all again.

“Mm-hmm.” I made a weak smile, but when I glanced at Vaughn’s profile, the tension in my shoulders unfurled.

How could some of my troublesnotfade into the background when the man beside me looked so wickedly handsome? Vaughn wore dark jeans and a black button-down shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and biceps. The open collar revealed sinister ink climbing his muscular neck, and a hint of shapely pecs. To top it all off, he’d rolled his sleeves up, which left me stealing glances at the thick veins in his corded forearms while making sure my lips remained sealed. Wouldn’t want any drool to escape.

He’d probably fold the sleeves down once we were in public, but as Vaughn flicked switches on the dash and worked the aircraft’s controls, everything about him was deliciously distracting.

As were the memories of earlier today when he’d stripped naked and stood before me, letting me cast my eyes over every one of his vicious scars. That he trusted me with something he guarded so closely was both humbling and inspiring. I’d never be able to take his trauma away, but I was confident that, with care and patience, we could make progress on his fear of being touched.

But first, we had to get through tonight. Whatever we’d face, we’d do it together. I trusted Vaughn wholeheartedly, and if hesaid it was safe for me to be at the meeting with the leaders of Mexico’s most ruthless militia group—la Mano Roja—that was all the reassurance I needed. Regardless, I’d be happy once we flew home to Playa de la Palmera tomorrow morning.

“I don’t want to worry you,” Vaughn said, interrupting my thoughts. “But el Capitán could have someone watching our every move as soon as we land. I don’t want to give him the idea that you’re important to me, so when we’re in public, I won’t act like you are. All right?”

I nodded. More than most, I understood how these narco militias acted. If your relationship with them soured, you put those close to you at risk of revenge attacks, so it was best to hold any affectionate feelings close to your chest.

Vaughn released my hand to maneuver the controls. Apparently, we were flying in a Beechcraft King Air 360, and after showing me the eight overstuffed leather seats in the cabin, Vaughn had buckled me into the cockpit seat beside his and geeked out by giving me a bunch of technical specs I already couldn’t recall.

It was a side of him I hadn’t seen before. There was something incredibly attractive about witnessing Vaughn so competent and completely in his element. Despite what we were about to do, he was more relaxed than he’d been since arriving in Playa de la Palmera, and if I had to guess, I’d say the sky was his happy place. It was as if commanding the aircraft brought him comfort.

Vaughn’s large hands gripped the yoke, banking us gently toward the runway. We touched down as the sun slipped below the horizon, and Vaughn taxied to an area away from the commercial terminal. There, a guy in dirty overalls handed us a set of keys and pointed out a white sedan. Vaughn gave him a thick wad of cash with the instruction to refuel the King Air, then reminded him that he’d never seen us arrive.

As we climbed into the car, my phone rang. Daphne. I let itgo to voicemail and replied with a quick message, telling her I was busy and would call her later. She’d have a meltdown if she found out Vaughn and I were going undercover to woo the Pacific Coast Cartel’s hired guns. If all went according to plan with the meeting, we’d be home before Daphne tomorrow morning, and she’d be none the wiser about what we’d been up to.

Through darkening streets, we made the short drive into town and checked into our accommodation for the night—a room in a modest but clean hotel one street back from the beach.

Vaughn flicked the light on and tossed his duffel onto the bed’s faded comforter. Then he swiped his phone from his back pocket and tapped out a message to el Capitán, letting him know we’d arrived in Puerto Escondido.

He sat at the foot of the bed, flung his phone down beside him, and exhaled deeply. “Now, we wait.”

Holy crap. We were really doing this.

2

HOPE

Iplaced the cigar box on a side table. The rare Cubans were my father’s favorite, but this variety hadn’t been available for almost a decade. Vaughn had come across them during one of his team’s raids, and although he preferred to hand them to Carlos himself, the closest he could get was using el Capitán as a middleman. All the same, he hoped the gesture would put him in Carlos’s good graces, perhaps opening the opportunity for a future meeting. It was just one avenue Vaughn and his team were pursuing to locate my father’s compound.

I paced the small hotel room, anticipating thebingof Vaughn’s phone with a response giving us the location of the meeting.

“Nervous?” Vaughn asked.

My gaze cut to his, but I didn’t stop my back-and-forth march. “Of course. Aren’t you?”

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